


The Killer in Me is the Killer in You

by Gairid



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 13:29:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5541758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gairid/pseuds/Gairid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the 2015 vc secret gift exchange on Tumblr. The request was for Lestat on the hunt (and the recipient never did read it, or if they did, never acknowledged it, so I took the name off the summary. Eat the rude!).</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Killer in Me is the Killer in You

**Author's Note:**

> _Lestat and Louis belong to Anne Rice and her publishers--I write for love of the characters, not for profit: no money has been made._
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> Credit for the title to Billy Corgan (The Smashing Pumpkins - _Disarm_ )
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For the purposes of fending off the ponderous, puzzled frowns regarding the veracity of my tale and the questions it might possibly engender, I want to make something clear--Louis does not have a problem with me watching him hunt. Honestly. It’s a non-issue, water under the bridge, pick your cliché. Yes, he made much of it in his completely one-sided book but if you had the occasion to ask him about it now and he was in any way inclined to answer, it would be to smile a little and admit that he had perhaps overreacted a time or two back then. In any case, it would not matter because a glimpse of that arresting smile would easily drive such mundanities right out of your head.

With that little hurdle knocked over and kicked to one side, let me tell you about a night not too long ago where I took in my head to do just that...watch Louis on the hunt. Believe it or not, I don't do it all that often--it’s not my intent to irritate him, after all. Quite the opposite when you consider that from this particular vampire’s point of view, such hunts within the hunt have culminated in shattering passion, the sort of thing that left us in sweetly exhausted satiation for several nights.

What? Too purple? Ah, well. Sue me, I can afford it. I mean every word of it, even if I tend toward the florid.

Perhaps a week before the event in question, Louis and I attended a lavish fundraising event of the type that outdoes itself in excesses that seem to be necessary in order to part wealthy folk from their money. They do part with it and very often quite generously but the courtship has become a necessary prelude. It could be argued that, instead of spending the money on the affair, it could as easily have been donated. I digress, of course.

I found myself enjoying the evening, enchanted with the fragrance of the spiced brine flowing just below the fragile sheaths of sweet, clean skin and elegant, expensive couture. Early in the evening, Louis and I had become separated-- he, drawn into earnest conversation with several acquaintances from other such occasions and I by a coterie of gilded and lovely women expending their various modes of skillful seduction with the aim of bringing me to bed, or at least I assume that’s what it was. It suited perfectly for the mood I was in; I do love attention as I may have mentioned a few times in my literary career. Louis caught my eye and gave me a knowing smile, one that permitted me a glimpse of his elegant fangs thus assuring I would later be apprised of my penchant for outrageous flirtation.

Louis and I exchanged warm glances across the room several more times and I was thus assured that he was comfortable and enjoying himself. The champagne flowed and the throng grew livelier and quite bit louder. My bevy of attendants began upping the ante on one another and I started to feel as though I was starring in my own version of ‘The Bachelor’. Little by little I became restless and then somewhat impatient; the game had progressed from amusing to something more than a little hostile, considering the genteel manners that had been so evident earlier in the evening.

I looked past them, scanning the room for a glimpse of Louis. He wasn’t with the small group he’d been with for most of the evening and I smiled to myself, wondering who had caught his attention. At that moment, I spied him and felt my smile fade. He was standing with several men and a lone woman. Nothing odd in that, but what caught my attention was the singular lack of expression on his face – his features were smooth and bland, still enough to be unsettling had anyone been looking at him at that moment other than myself. Engaged in their conversation no one in the small group seemed to notice.

The stunning little brunette who had stationed herself at my side said something to me and I must have made some nonsensical answer because they all fell silent. The brunette…Mindy?...made a pouty little grimace at my wandering attention. At that moment the animation returned to Louis’s features as he spoke to the woman smiling at him.

“Are you alright, sugar?” asked the statuesque blonde hovering at my other elbow. Her accent was sweet southern honey and among the four of them, she seemed genuinely concerned, making me wonder what on earth I’d said.

“A little close in here, that’s all,” I said, recovering my equanimity.

The little brunette glared, but the blonde paid her no mind, slipping her hand beneath my elbow and guiding me to the bar where she asked the bartender for some iced water. “There you go. Dehydration. Worst thing for you.” 

“Thank you, Caroline,” I said, recalling her name. I took a small sip of the water for her benefit.

“Mindy can get a little intense,” she said with a smile. 

“I am grateful for the timely rescue,” I answered, responding to her warmth.

“Don’t mention it. It was nice to meet you…Laurent. Now, if you are feeling all right, I believe I will toddle off and see what my husband is up to.”

I took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “Thank you again,” I said sincerely as I straightened up. “It would be my pleasure if we should meet again under less pressured circumstances.”

She laughed easily and gave me a queen-like little wave as she headed off to wherever Mr. Caroline might be. As I turned to look again for Louis, he appeared at that moment at my side. All traces of the odd moment I’d witnessed had disappeared and he wore an enigmatic little smile. “I see you have made Mrs. Hollister’s acquaintance,” he said.

“Caroline is Mrs. Hollister?” I asked with a surprised laugh. The Hollisters were the ones hosting this soiree. “I do wish you wouldn’t leave me on my own, Louis. I didn’t put my foot in it, but that was pure luck. As it is she did pointedly hesitate when she called me Laurent.”

Louis smiled and linked his arm through mine as he liked to do. “She is a most remarkable woman…much more intelligent than that boorish, boastful husband of hers. As for leaving you on your own, I expect that is a habit of long years…it is my delight to watch your interactions.”

“Voyeur,” I said.

“I had a good teacher. ”

In this way he distracted me from any questions I may have had regarding that puzzling little interlude I’d witnessed.

**~~~~~~~~~~**

A week or so later found me sprawled on the davenport working my way through series one of _Peaky Blinders_. Louis came in, dressed down in jeans, sweater, and scarf over a light jacket.

“I’ll be out for a while, my love,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to my lips.

“Care for some company?” I asked. I already knew what his answer would be.

“Continue your show. It’s nothing of consequence--I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Alright, then,” I said, sitting up and drawing him down for another warm kiss. I was not disappointed in the least. Rather, I was inordinately intrigued because this was a pattern he’d followed for several nights. Something was going on and after restraining myself up until now, I was driven to find out what it might be.

I will eschew the tedium of routes and travel; none of that is necessary to the story. His first destination did seem to be an errand, a lovely old home in the Garden District, the home, in fact of our erstwhile hosts from a week earlier. He was very likely dropping off our donation and did not spend a great deal of time there. He wandered a little after that, taking a somewhat winding route through the quiet, shadowy streets, moving more or less in the direction of the river. His casual saunter shifted quite suddenly and my pulse picked up when I recognized the predatory posture. 

His movements were alert and deliberate and to my eye, excruciatingly erotic. There was something different going on, however; I am familiar with his usual hunting patterns and this was a definite deviation. 

A couple emerged from their house and he immediately shifted his body language to pass a friendly greeting with them. They got into their car and by the time they’d turned the corner, the predator was back, standing completely still, his head cocked very slightly. I knew then that I’d been discovered, but instead of the exasperated look I expected, he moved his head in a minute come forward gesture. I did so, somewhat sheepishly. “Well, now that you’re here,” he said in a voice so soft I had to strain to hear it. "Follow me and I will tell you the plan when we are off the street.”

Plan! What was this? I followed him soundlessly over a high wall covered with winding jasmine and queen's wreath, joining him in the shadows. He waited for a moment, to be certain we had not been heard. On the porch, an alarm panel glowed beside the front door and in the house there were lights showing in several of the first-floor windows. “I know you have questions, Lestat, but they will have to wait,” he said in that same soft voice. He gave me a quick, fangy smile. “I should have just brought you along to begin with. This is more your sort of game, really. Come on.”

I did as I was told, feverish to know what he was up to. His body language had gone perfectly mortal again, so I followed suit and we mounted the wide porch steps. He punched in a code and we entered silently. He re-armed the alarm once we were in the house and turned in a listening attitude. From a room toward the back of the house, a television blared.

“The mortal at the back of the house is the objective. There is a female upstairs. She is incapacitated and I wish her left alone.” I nodded understanding , at the same time seeking and finding Louis’s mortal objective. He gave me a minute to assess the situation. Simple enough. I nodded and he moved forward with me at his heels.

The mortal’s mind seethed with violent and utterly depraved images, so disjointed that at first I thought that he must be under the influence of some intoxicant or drug, but it became clear after a moment that he was not. 

Louis moved forward, crossing the elegantly appointed living room and down a short hallway to where the television roared. He stepped into the room and the occupant sat up, his mouth open in utter surprise for the briefest moment. He was fast, this mortal, reaching to a side table and grabbing up a long hunting knife flashing silvery blue in darkened room.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

Louis glanced at the television as he passed it and it turned off in a shower of sparks. “The question is, what the fuck have _you_ been doing in your house, Joshua?” Louis’s voice was ominously flat. “There is an unpleasantly corrupt miasma in your back garden. What could that be?” He reached out with sudden speed and took the knife from Joshua. He threw it, embedding it deep into the wall.

“How do you know my name?” Joshua demanded as if it were a normal thing to have such a series of events occur.

“Don’t you remember me?” Louis asked silkily. “We met at the Hollister’s last week. You were with that delightful Miss Lucy.” 

“I don’t know any Lucy.” he snarled, not missing a beat. 

“Oh? I just assumed that she was with you, seeing as she is reclining in the upstairs bedroom though I have a feeling she might be here under duress.”

Louis took a step toward the couch, his face devoid of expression. This seemed to discomfit Joshua who, remarkably, had not shown any sort of fear until this moment. His mind, quieted from his feverish imaginings earlier, was cold, clicking through what options he might have. In a sudden flash, I saw it - Louis had found himself a serial killer and the evidence, some of it at least, rested beneath the flower beds in his backyard. Joshua’s reactions had been analytical and calculating because he himself was a predator.

Things moved fast then and I remained a voyeur for a space of minutes. Joshua’s surprisingly fluid leap toward Louis turned clumsy when Louis grasped his wrist and twisted it, snapping the bone. Joshua cried out, but the sound was cut off when Louis buried his teeth into the man’s neck, crushing his larynx. Louis took a great draught of blood and then lifted his head from the wound. Joshua’s eyes rolled whitely. 

“I know you’re hungry,” he crooned to me. I took Joshua from him and Louis staggered back a step, landing on the couch. After I dropped the body to the floor, I joined him here, floating in the blissful swoon.

A little later, Louis went up to check on Lucy and I took that time to arrange Joshua on his couch. Louis had left a ghastly looking tear in the man’s neck, one that I did not try to hide in the normal fashion; I estimated that he had been dead for too long for one thing and for another, I would have been unwilling to risk the amount it would take to knit it closed; it might well have turned him into a mindless revenant. It would be a puzzle (or not, depending on who caught the case) but one easily brushed under the proverbial rug once the bodies came to light in his beautifully manicured back yard.

I called the police from Joshua’s cell phone before we left the house and told them there was a man dead on the first floor and an incapacitated woman needing medical attention on the second and at least two bodies buried in the backyard under the caladiums. We took to the air and were home in the space of four minutes.

Louis took control, pushing me onto the bed and unceremoniously tearing the clothes from my body. Submitting to him pushed the less pleasant aspects of that kill aside--he used me well and promised more of the same when awakened next, not because he was angry, but because he knew how I craved him in all ways.

He rolled me into his arms a little before dawn. “He had plans for more than poor Lucy, you know. I heard it in his head. He had his eye on Caroline and that little Mindy who had her hopes pinned on getting you into her bed. He could have gone on a while longer before decompensating into a state that would have exposed him.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” I said lazily, pressing my nose beneath his ear.

“It’s been awhile since I crossed paths with someone like him,” he admitted. “Blood is blood, I suppose, but the images in his mind and his various fixations were most disagreeable.”

“I probably would have released the girl and tried terrorizing him. In the end, though, you called it perfectly---he was not all that rattled until he realized he was going to die. They’re all sort of like that, those serial murderers...they don't believe the violence they inflict could ever turn back to them.”

He was quiet for a little while, his hand making soothing circles over my ribs. “Once I would have said we were no better.”

“Once.” I agreed. “You really were a crazy person back then.”

“You’re not really going there, are you?”

I laughed. “You were, you know. But I knew you’d get past it. You’re strong. Even when you were supposedly ‘weak’, you were always strong.” My voice trailed off and I realized he might not have even heard me, for he’d dropped into the death sleep and I felt myself spiraling down to join him.

FIN


End file.
